Let Me Entertain You
by Quen Galad
Summary: A short insight into the adventures and inter-personal dynamics of a band of evil, self-serving, ruthless mercenaries. Led by Jade the Assassin, the happy band of murderers, slave owners, blackmailers and madmen TRIES to co-operate at least enough to undo the Iron Throne... With their usual panache, of course. (BG EE, in progress)
1. Chapter 1

Oh, it felt good to be underground again.

Not that there was anything above ground that he couldn't handle, but the city was getting to him. It was just so _crowded_, and crowded with rivvin, who gawked and gabbled and stared and stank and, really, it was like making a way through a throng of animals - mindless, stupid beasts whose lives were as meaningless as the noises they produced.

And then again no, not animals, because even a housecat could scratch, sneak or jump, while these people could do nothing. Baeloth had a strong suspicion that, if he were to pit a human commoner against a cat in the arena, the winner would go "meow."

Aah, the arena. The lovely Black Pits of Blissful Entertainment... How he itched to teach a long lesson in pain to those thrice-damned gladiators! He saw the crumbling pits they had here, where Shar-Teel spent the evenings betting on herself and insulting the male clientele into fights. It was a scenery unfit to stage a rigged fight between two one-legged kobolds. But at least the crazy woman was kept out of everyone's way in the evenings.

They were lodging in the Undercellar, among the thieves and debauchers and whores of both sexes, where - as it turned out - quite comfortable rooms could be arranged for people who were not anxious to stay in more exposed parts of the city. And they needed the hideout, Lolth knew. Between Shar-Teel's tendency to butcher every member of the Flaming Fist they encountered, Xzar's maniacal mood and personality swings, Baeloth's race and, last but not least, Dorn's status as an escaped prisoner and mass murderer, their chances for passing unnoticed and untroubled through Baldur's Gate were severely limited. Therefore, days passed lazily but comfortably in the Undercellar, with only Jade or Eldoth sneaking out to mingle with the people, while nights were a time for action.  
It was an arrangement that suited Baeloth very well.

He stretched his legs out towards the fire and wriggled comfortably in the black dressing gown, made of something he privately called "surface silk." It was smooth and pleasant on his skin, no doubt kept around for the nobles who came to satisfy their less... acceptable desires in the Undercellar. Across the room, Jade sat wearing an identical robe, her black hair melding with the fabric to create a background on which her face demanded even more attention, a pale oval with shining, bright eyes. She had the Iron Throne correspondence spread out in front of her and was poring over it, frowning in concentration. Further in the room, the half-orc sharpened and polished his sword as if he hoped to hear it beg for mercy.

Mmm, now there was a thought. Baeloth's eyes returned to the bracelet on his wrist, the multi-faceted onyxes sitting there smugly, like conspirators in their safe den. Nested among them was a larger one, a truly perfect specimen of purest black with only the tiniest specks of purple veins. It had been even bigger, but it shrank in the cutting. Still, the jeweller gave it a magnificent shape, and also - what a _happy_ coincidence! - obliterated the insignia of a Menzoberranzan house that had been set in the stone previously.

Who was that female? Baeloth wondered, idly, what chain of events brought her to the wild surface, hunted and scared and begging for help. It really was a disgusting sight, a drow priestess mewling for mercy in front of the rivvin, and announcing her betrayal of Lolth, just like that, to a band of strangers! What was she thinking, and how did she function on a day-to-day basis?

Well, obviously not well, since she must have been an outcast, clinging to the insignia of her pathetic house that Baeloth couldn't even recognize. Jade had agreed for the female - what was her name again? - to come with them, while the guard who chased her was being butchered by Shar-Teel in the background. The drow woman made herself useful that night, patching up a few wounds, and was surprised and mistrustful to see Baeloth in the party, as she should have been.

Well, no, not as she should have been, because the next day, she let herself be left behind, with him, while the rest of the party dealt with a band of hobgobs. Hit with a poisoned arrow, she was unable to deal with the venom herself, and accepted a bottle of "antidote" from him without any misgivings. That look on her face, when she felt the liquid - which was, in fact, the highly caustic substance used by kobolds on the Nashkel iron - run down her throat, had been really priceless... Baeloth sat there, savouring it, as the cowardly bitch learned what happened to those who abandoned Lolth. When the light in her eyes had died, he ran back to the party, shouting that an antidote was "desperately needed." Alas, they would be, oh, too late _by seconds_, and Baeloth would take the onyx bracelet to "remember his unknown compatriot by."

Heh. The garbage those rivvin were prepared to believe. Although, to be absolutely honest, he very much doubted he fooled these particular surfacers. As a powerful sorcerer once said, don't confuse not caring with not knowing...  
He glanced up, and saw Jade checking out the half-orc again. He laughed, and she turned to him.

"What is so entertaining _now_?" she asked.

"Oh, this and that," Baeloth waved a hand vaguely. "I was wondering who would win a fight in the arena - a human commoner or a housecat. Perhaps you can enlighten me, knowing both better?"

"The cat, probably." She threw the papers away with an impatient gesture. "Order some more wine. I've had enough of this."

"Alright. But-"

"Not because I told you to. Yes, yes. Just as long as there's something to drink," she said, laughing, and he had to admit to himself that she had a beautiful smile.

The drow stood up and grabbed a handful of coins. The prices here were higher than elsewhere, because you paid for silence and anonymity as well as service, but they were still ridiculously low. The handful of coins he had now was about six times more than the wine would actually cost, and it was a sum they, as adventurers, didn't even notice. Baeloth knew that in her purple velvet bag, Jade had a number of real, precious jewels, and that even one of those jewels would be enough to buy this whole place. Maybe two of the lesser ones.

Out of the corner of his eye, Baeloth saw the half-orc's head shot up at the sound of Jade's laughter. It was hard to imagine the half-breed's face could get even more ill-tempered and moody, but somehow, it did.  
Baeloth opened the door and looked out to the passage, its red doors leading to the whorehouse, and a series of black doors into "private" apartments similar to theirs - although he knew for a fact that one was taken by agents of the Night Masks and another by a Zhentarim sorceress who had at least three young men brought to her room every night. For drow, spying was a philosophy, a survival technique and a hobby combined.  
He saw a passing servant and threw the heavy coins at him, making him yelp when the gold hit.

"Another three pitchers of wine, the best you've got. And I will know it!" he called out. The man scrambled on the floor for the money to the sound of Baeloth's chuckling. Then the red door opened and Shar-Teel came in, further lifting the sorcerer's spirits. Persuading her to wear revealing outfits while in the arena may have just been the most hilarious thing he's done on the surface yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Stepping back into the room, Baeloth had to suppress another laugh. Really, these surfacers were too ridiculous for words.

It took the few minutes of Baeloth's absence for the half-orc to finish - at last! - the sword-polishing, and somehow, he chose the_ exact_ moment when he was alone with Jade to practice battle moves with it. He also appeared to have lost his shirt in the process, for some unapparent reason.

Predictably, Baeloth's reappearance marked the moment when the half-breed had satisfied himself that he could, indeed, swing a metal stick, and decided to leave. Jade's gaze followed him out of the room and Baeloth wondered if she noticed that Dorn did not quite shut the door to his bedroom. He chuckled. She was a rogue, locks were her element. Of course she noticed.

"There will be wine," he announced, flinging himself in front of the fireplace with more than his usual flair ; the slight grimace of disappointment on her face just then did not escape him.

"I hope so," she barked. Her bare feet were resting against the fire grate, looking strangely dainty and delicate. "I really do need some quality time."

Did she say that a tad louder than was needed? She was a rogue, and silence was her element - of course she did. Baeloth hesitated only for a moment.  
Sometimes, he thought, I really am a bastard. And I'm loving it.

He reached out and took her foot in both hands, resting it comfortably against his thigh. Her eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing and allowed him to massage her foot, switching between milder and stronger touches, pressing, rubbing, kneading and stroking. She closed her eyes, content, but opened them again when the door swung and Shar-Teel entered, covered in sweat and about three leather straps overall. She shot Jade a disapproving look - letting yourself be touched by a male, unthinkable! - and went straight to her bedroom without a word.

"I wonder why she wears that," Jade murmured. Baeloth reached for her other foot.

"Oh, that is simplicity itself. For your entertainment," he said.

"What?"

"Well, all right, for _my_ entertainment. You see, I told her it would be a good idea. I have some experience in gladiatorial matches, you know - the Black Pits, Bloodshed Worthy of the Underdark, geas-bound outsiders... I'm sure I've mentioned it?"

Jade only rolled her eyes at that.

"So, speaking as a professional Entertainer, I advised our crazy berserkess to wear a whorish outfit during fights. To show her contempt for the male opponents and further humiliate them."

"To do _what_?" Jade giggled. "I know she's not particularly smart, but... what?"

"Oh, it was a perfect performance, I assure you. I wish you could have seen it!" His slender fingers danced through the air. "The sheer maestry of persuasion, of argumentation, of reasoning! I told her that, by wearing no armor at all, she manifested her contempt for the skills of the opponents, implying they would be unable to injure even her bare skin. I told her that, by showing off her body she would make the lowly males slaves to their lust - doesn't she always say how 'men never think with their minds'? - and could further humiliate them by showing them how little in control they were. I told her all sorts of idiotic gibberish, and she swallowed it all! Now she enters the arena wearing only two leather straps to cover her nipples and two to cover her clitoris, and she thinks she's some sort of goddess of war! Really, this is too priceless for words. And her ego doesn't even let her realize that the_ real_ reason people flock to watch is because they want to see the idiot slut who goes into battle naked!"

He paused, shaking with laughter. Then he took a few breaths and wiped off a tear.

"Although," he added, "I wonder if she does in fact _have_ a clitoris. If she had, she would probably find men more useful. Or at least she would have been less uptight."

Now it was Jade's turn to burst out laughing. "You really are mad, you know," she said, resting her feet comfortably on his lap.

"Compared to who, exactly?" The drow grinned, as Xzar chose this very moment to start screaming again. His madness was getting worse ever since he had devoted his time to the worship of Cyric, and of course the insane god had noticed him. Divine powers came, cracking an even greater fissure in his mind, and this was not the first time they had to tie him onto his bed with ropes.

"Rabbits!" he roared, in the voice of one of his less-frequent personalities known as Burke. "You wanted me to tell you about the rabbits? I WILL TELL YOU ABOUT THE RABBITS!"

Baeloth raised his eyebrows at Jade, who made an impatient gesture. "Mad Cyricist aside-" she started.

"Mad Cyricist aside, you have a bloodthirsty warrior who is too full of herself to even notice that she's being sexually exploited, a bard who steals his own money back from whores because he needs it to pay for potency elixirs so he can screw even more whores, for some undisclosed reason, and-"

Jade interrupted. "Just to brag, I suspect, although I've wondered about that myself. But do continue," she added sweetly. "I am _very_ interested what you have to say about Dorn."

"You are, aren't you? I've noticed you stare at him. Does the bad boy make you swoon, Jade?" the Drow's red eyes reflected the firelight, gleaming like rubies, and his smile was especially predatory. "With his black eyes and black hair and black sword and black soul? Or is it his bloodlust? You really shouldn't have stopped them from fighting each other, I would love to see which of our happy butchers would have won." The thin curve of his teeth was dazzlingly white against his jet-black skin. "But no... I think it's his voice that makes you quiver under your dark leathers. Am I right? Does his low, manly growl make you wet? Do you imagine yourself stretched under his heavy body, moaning with pleasure and pain?"

Jade swallowed the lump in her throat, and opened her mouth to say "Jealous?" but then thought better of it. This was Baeloth, and the only thing that mattered for Baeloth was entertainment.

Instead, she said, "So _he_'s not mad, is he?"

"Oh, of course he is. I mean, how insane do you have to be to make a pact with a damn deamon just to get out of jail?"

"Not just that. He wanted revenge."

"Yes, against a few mortals who, by his own admission, were no match for him even before the pact. And he sat in jail, brooding on his hatred until it got so vile that a deamon sensed it? Because he spent a few years in a cell? Boo hoo, poor little half-breed." Baeloth contorted his face in an utterly ghastly grimace of mock sorrow. "Was he raped in prison? Because if he was raped in prison, I _might_ have understood. But no, our half-orc friend was probably not traumatized. He may have been a source of trauma for others, of course. And I suspect a prison in a surface city is not the most horrific place one could find oneself in, Jade. What would he have done in the Black Pits, I wonder?"

"I didn't-" Jade began. But there was a knock on the door, and a servant came in, bearing drinks. Baeloth darted up, grabbed one bottle, and whisked it away towards Dorn's room.

"Oh master Il-Khan! I beg to inform you that we have been brought our alcohol!" he called out with his most mischievous grin.  
There was a moment of silence and then the door opened, showing the huge, gray form of the half-orc, wearing only a pair of britches. His gaze lingered for a moment on Jade, half-laying in an armchair, her bare legs stretched out towards the fire, the black silk sliding off her shoulders and revealing her cleavage. Her lips parted as she watched the two men, each of them a negative of the other. Baeloth, extravagant, narcissistic, a good-humored yet deadly trickster ; and Dorn, silent, serious frighteningly straightforward and just as deadly. Agile, graceful drow, black-skinned and silver-haired, and unmovable, huge half-orc, with black hair and pale grey skin. Jade turned her head away to mask both the lust and conflict in her gaze.

The men stared each other down for a moment, and then Dorn snatched the wine bottle away, shutting the door with just a grunt. Baeloth danced back towards the woman and offered her wine with a mocking bow.

"See? Can't unwind for even a moment." The drow crouched down by the fire, another bottle in hand. "Can't take pleasure in anything. I'm very sorry to say this, but I sincerely doubt he can _give_ pleasure, either... So if you want your bed warmed, you filthy female, I suggest you send out for some hot coals."

"He did say him and the necromancer woman were lovers," Jade replied, taking a swig. She wasn't about to rise to such easy bait. "So I think he must be able to give some pleasure."

"Well, if you are _that_ desperate to find out... Shame he had to kill her, you could have asked her for a review. I wonder if that's the real reason for her death?"

Jade leaned forward, watching the firelight pour a dull gleam over the drow's black skin. It looked impossibly smooth. "Maybe I _will_ send for some hot coals, just to have you dragged over them, you exasperating elf. And then I might well find someone to warm my bed, too."

The white eyebrows rose like a particularly confident sunrise. "Really? Who, Eldoth?"

Now both of them burst out laughing. Jade stood up.

"Alright, that's enough entertainment for today." She reached her bedroom door, her bare feet making no sound.

"Oh, there's never enough entertainment," hissed the sorcerer. Did she hear that? She was a rogue. Of course she did.


End file.
